


Act of God

by plothound



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Armor, Armor Kink, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Big Clit, Egg Inflation, Egg Laying, Egg Transfer, Eggpreg, Fisting, Hyper Belly, Hyper Pregnancy, M/M, Mpreg, Murder, Oviposition, Size Difference, Stripping, Trans Male Character, Violence, hyper clit, hyper tdick, pregnancy transfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plothound/pseuds/plothound
Summary: A gang of thieves decides to leave the safety of the city to loot an old shrine in the wilderness, but the great wilds are full of monsters, and some of them are human.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 16
Kudos: 179





	Act of God

“Come on,” Laster wheedled. “It’s two weeks out of the city, past the river, no one’s going to be out there. Place has been abandoned for decades. We’ll just walk in, take the treasure, walk out.”

“I dunno,” Addy said. “There’s a settlement out there, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but they’re heathens,” Laster said dismissively. “They don’t attend the shrine.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t taken the treasure themselves?”

“What, and set foot in a shrine? Nah, they avoid the place. I’m telling you, it’ll be really easy.”

Addy sighed and took a drink of the sour, foamy beer Laster’d bought him. It was supposed to convince him, but it wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “If it’s so easy, why hasn’t anyone done it already?”

“Because it’s such a long way out. But we’ve got provisions, we’ve got weapons, we’ve got the gang. Anything bothers us, we’re well set to handle it.”

“Well…” Addy was running out of good reasons not to go, and Laster clearly knew it, sitting there looking smug. “It’s a shrine, yeah? What if there’s a Wandering Knight around?”

It was a desperate excuse, vanishingly unlikely, and Laster very visibly held back a peal of laughter before he straightened his face—almost—and said, the laugh still creeping in around the edges of his voice, “Well, that’d be a problem then, wouldn’t it?” He coughed, and spoke a little easier. “But we’ve got the gang. If one shows up, we’re well equipped.”

Addy took another drink, trying to put off the moment that was quickly becoming inevitable. But there wasn’t much left. “Well, where are we going to fence it?”

“Already talked to Carrick,” Laster said. “He’s willing, says he’ll market the more recognizable stuff outside the city. And Scout’s already been out there once, he knows the way. We’ve even got a donkey so we don’t have to carry so much. It’ll be easy. Might even have fun, yeah? It’s pretty country out that way, you like that sort of thing.”

Addy  _ did  _ like the wilderness, quite a lot, actually, but he wasn’t going to say that. Still, he was out of excuses, apart from something like a suddenly-invented dying relative, even more blisteringly obvious than the Wandering Knight question. And he owed Laster, though Laster’d been polite enough not to mention it. There really wasn’t anything for it. “Yeah, all right. When?”

  
  
  
  


It really was a nice trip. Scary, a little, once they got past the last farms and little villages, over the ford, but there were twenty-two of them, twenty-three counting Addy, and it’d take a really stupid monster or bandit to attack a group that size. No Knights, of course, not once they were out of the city’s immediate surroundings. No Crown Knights, anyway. They could still run into a Knight-Errant, and that would be bad, that lot was always angry, but they stayed off the main roads to avoid that as best they could. And if they really did run into a Wandering Knight… well, that’d be an act of God, and that was all there was to it. Those were supposed to be really mad, feral, even less likely to respond to reason or bribery than an Errant. Addy had seen one, once, from a distance. They were allowed to enter the city, despite their oath, if their catches—or kills, more often, Wandering Knights didn’t usually waste time on capturing—were criminal enough, and he’d seen a middle-aged woman, helm pushed back onto her forehead, wrapped in a fur cloak that could’ve been from an elk if it hadn’t been striped in poisonous green, hauling three broken corpses behind her. Everyone had given her a wide berth, despite the packed streets, and silence followed her like a cloud. The citadel’s portcullis raised for her, and she never slowed or stopped, just trudged implacably in, the corpses leaving a smear of blood behind her. She’d looked mad, utterly, and in that moment, Addy had believed everything he’d ever heard about Wandering Knights.

They didn’t run into any, of course. It was smooth, easy, really, all the way out to the old shrine, small and stone and barely holding itself together. Even that was easy; the doors were rotted, and they simply reached in through a hole and undid the latch, and then they were inside. 

It wasn’t lavish inside, being a little wilderness shrine, but it was still a shrine, and there was plenty to take. The silver was badly tarnished, but once the dust and leaves were wiped off, the gold shone as warmly as ever. They filled their bags, and piled more onto the donkey, and they were about to leave when someone tripped over an old rug and revealed a trapdoor that led them to chests and chests and chests of more old offerings. They decided to stay a day or two, then, go through it all, take the most expensive of the lot.

It was hard work, hauling the chests up, emptying them, spreading their contents out. There wasn’t all that much room in the cellar, so they worked half of the group at a time, and the half that wasn’t dragging chests up the stepladder spent the time laying out the treasure, cleaning it up, and arguing over what would fetch the most coin. 

Addy was carrying one end of a chest, obnoxiously heavy as all of them were, when the girl carrying the other end suddenly dropped like a stone, pitching forward onto the chest, and the chest slipped his hands and landed on the toes of one foot. He yelped and swore, nearly fell on his ass, and then saw the blood dripping down the chest, and the messily-fletched crossbow bolt sticking out of the girl’s back, and for a moment didn’t understand.

Then there were yells from outside, and unsheathing weapons, and he looked up just in time to see the Knight step into the clearing outside the shrine, tossing a crossbow to the ground. It was a huge, stocky figure, immensely broad, an impression only increased by the innumerable layers of tattered cloth and battered armor plates it was wrapped in, concealing any details of its shape apart from its vast size. Its helm had once been fine, and still bore delicate engravings and a fluted crest, but it was mangled by lengths of blackened iron, riveted on carelessly, forming crude horns and long, flat teeth that dripped with lines of rust. Ruined feathers and bits of fur stuck out at odd angles from odder places, and all over the Knight’s terrible form there were great patches of old blood that matted fraying fabric and flaked off of steel and iron. It held a gigantic longsword, a great, bitter thing, pitted and stained, but with a mirror edge.

There was a long moment while the Knight hefted its sword, shifting it into a high guard that was surprisingly elegant for its bulk, where no one seemed able to do anything. Then someone recovered, a slender man whose name Addy thought was Cot, and lunged at the Knight, long knife out, and the Knight’s single answering stroke caught him in the shoulder and clove him nearly to the waist, and suddenly everyone was screaming and running, either at the Knight or away from it.

Addy scrabbled at the chest, trying to find the handle he’d been using, but he couldn’t look at the chest and the Knight at the same time, and he couldn’t decide between them, and he didn’t do either of them right. He didn’t see a lot of what was going on, only vague impressions of blood and vicious, animal violence, and a lot of screaming thieves, and he certainly didn’t find the handle to get the damn chest off his foot, not until a lot of the screaming had stopped.

When he finally gave up on finding the handle and simply heaved as hard as he could, staring out the doorway and trying not to cry, they were down by half. There were maybe ten of them left out there, tops, and bodies everywhere, and the Knight was splattered with more blood, sword dripping gore. It hadn’t said a word. 

  
Addy stumbled to the door, foot hurting, just in time to see another of them get cut down in one easy stroke. By the time he’d decided, seconds later, to run, two more were gone, and when he was halfway across the clearing and tripped over someone’s body, foot twisting, landing sprawled on his side, there were only four thieves left, swearing and yelling and crying, brandishing weapons in shaking hands. Addy wanted to scream at them to run, there was no point, they couldn’t win, but his voice wasn’t working. He was too terrified to get up, too terrified to think, and started crawling across the ground, his hands and knees slipping in blood and scattered treasure, and every time he heard another sick, wet chop, he shook and looked back, unable to stop himself, to see another going down. 

The last one, an older man, started pleading when the second-to-last dropped, and for a moment there was only his voice and the great thumps of the Knight’s boots, and then a scream, and then silence. Addy flipped onto his back, unable to stop himself, and saw the Knight standing by the shrine steps, the old man’s body falling in two pieces, and then it turned to him, and he heard himself make a horrible gurgling sobbing whine that he hadn’t known he could make. The Knight moved toward him, surprisingly fluid for all its vast bulk. Addy started crawling backward on his elbows, shaking his head and mouthing wordlessly.

Then, quite suddenly, the Knight doubled over with a deep grunt. It—he? that had sounded like a man—swayed a little, steadying itself with its sword, and for a few seconds it stood there, seeming for the first time tired and off-balance. Then it straightened and started crossing the clearing again, and then, after only a few steps, stumbled. It barely missed going to its knees, and its free hand went to its abdomen. It groaned again, louder, deeper, and after a long pause, when it tried to walk again, it dropped to one knee.

But it couldn’t have been hurt. Addy stared at it, trying to find any sign that one of them had gotten a hit in, but there was nothing. Of course, the layers and layers of cloth and metal would probably conceal anything, but he couldn’t imagine any of them hitting it. Even a crossbow bolt seemed unlikely to hit, somehow, let alone get through all that protection. It was a Knight, a _Wandering_ Knight. Surely a thief couldn’t… 

The Knight was crawling now, dragging itself over to a tree and collapsing against it with another groan like a wounded bear. It plunged its sword into the ground next to it and just sat there limply, massive body heaving with great, shuddering breaths.

Addy got up. He hadn’t known he could, really, and he suspected that if he thought too hard about it he’d find himself unable. So he stringently avoided thinking anything at all, and his feet brought him closer to the Knight. He paused maybe ten feet away from its huge armored boot, and tried to comprehend how large it was. Standing, it would have to be two feet taller than Addy, at least, and two, three times as broad. A lot of the massiveness was probably from its innumerable layers, but the height couldn’t be, and Addy could see easily that the boots were flat, no heel. He stared at it in quiet awe for a moment. He hadn’t known that people could  _ be  _ this big. The Knight groaned again, a low, animal sound, and Addy moved closer instinctively.

The Knight growled. It should have been funny, a human throat making a vicious animal noise, but instead Addy froze like a startled deer. His legs were shaking, he realized. He tried several times to speak, and eventually managed it. “Let me help,” he croaked. “I help you. You don’t kill me. Yeah?”

There was a long silence, broken only by the Knight’s heavy, raspy breathing. It was quite cool, overcast, and faint little clouds of steam jetted from the dark helm with every breath. The Knight’s right hand twitched, fingers shifting uncomfortably, like it wanted its sword. Then it nodded.

Addy came closer, eyeing the sword. The hilt came to his chest, and that was with part of its blade stuck in the earth. But the Knight wasn’t reaching for it. Not yet, anyway. So he got up close, close enough for the Knight’s size to really sink in—it was  _ sitting down,  _ and its head was still almost on a level with his—and started peeling away layers. There were dozens of them, most hardly more than scraps, like the Knight had been tearing up discarded blankets and bedsheets and wrapping itself in them. The first few were okay, acting more or less as cloaks and pulled back fairly easily, but below that, it was all a tangled mess, strips of fabric and leather and fur all interweaving with each other, and as he got further down, to the layers that were more solidly in place, he started running into the armor plates, haphazardly held on with belts, or crudely sewn to six or seven different pieces of fabric, or just sitting there loose, held on by friction and the overlapping layers. It was all full of years of dirt and sweat and blood and mud, and old leaves and bits of gravel kept falling out unexpectedly. For all that, it smelled cleaner than Addy would have expected. Well, not clean, but not like a sewer, either. It was a wild sort of smell, like a forest, or maybe the animals in the forest. 

He first saw skin at the Knight’s left elbow, when a massive etched steel couter slipped free with a  _ clunk,  _ taking the remnants of an embroidered sleeve with it _.  _ The skin was light brown and dirty, with the beginnings of a pale scar just visible tracing down towards the forearm and disappearing under more layers. Addy didn’t really see any need to unwrap the Knight’s forearms, he was still trying to get to the abdomen, but the damn layers linked together in a way that took him there anyway, and eventually, once he’d peeled away more leather and furs and four great iron manacles, laced together, that functioned as a vambrace, he saw a huge corded forearm, closer in size to Addy’s calf than any arm he’d ever seen. The crude mitten gauntlet that capped it slipped off without the fabric to hold it on, revealing a vast hand, callused and filthy, easily large enough for the palm to cover Addy’s face. All of that skin was silvered with scars, from clean, sharp cuts to vicious animal tears and some that looked almost melted, from fire or acid, and there were a lot of bruises, too, in various stages of healing. The Knight seemed to be accepting of being stripped, or at least understood that there wasn’t any direct path to its torso, and that a roundabout route had to be taken, so Addy kept going.

The upper arm was as huge as the rest, thigh-sized, bulging with muscle, and just as scarred. Addy was struck with the strange thought that if people were hunted for their skins, the Knight’s would be near-worthless: giant, but damaged in every way. He found the end of a belt protruding out onto the shoulder, and followed it to find a mass of pieces that seemed to have been sewn together, over and over and over themselves, a complete mess, but held together. He undid the buckle, and was able to peel away a large section from the Knight’s chest, leaving only a few layers of cloth beneath. There were a couple more pieces like that, and they were all anchored to the Knight’s helm. 

Addy didn’t really want to take the Knight’s helm off. He wasn’t precisely sure why, but he was afraid of it, of whatever might lie beneath. But it was supporting those strange conglomerate-armor pieces, and if he ever wanted to actually get to the Knight’s torso and see what the hell was wrong, he was going to have to do it. So he did.

It was immensely heavy. He had to strain to lift it, and when he finally did manage to lift it high enough to take it off, he almost dropped it, barely managed to hold onto it as it  _ thunked  _ onto the dirt, narrowly missing his foot. He straightened up, panting, and forced himself to look at the Knight’s face, if only for a moment.

It was a man, after all. His face was startlingly human—of course he was human, but with all his vast size and horrible power, Addy realized that he’d been thinking of the Knight almost as a monster. It wasn’t an old face, either, and that was surprising, too. Older than Addy, a little, but still a young man, no lines on his face. That said, it was a frightening face. The shape was all right, hard and sharp and a little rough, with the black hair chopped crudely, brutally short, but the eyes were mad, a too-bright glittering golden brown, white visible nearly all the way round, and set deep into dark, shadowy sockets, so deep that they looked skeletal. The dark brow was furrowed, and the mad eyes beamed straight into Addy’s, at once seeming to see him utterly and look right past him. There was a strange, focused, aggressive confusion there, and Addy turned away quickly, the maze of the Knight’s wrappings leading him to the other huge shoulder, down the other gigantic arm. Was he going to have to strip the whole bloody man before he could get where he needed to?

The Knight’s breathing was getting more labored, rather than less, which didn’t strike Addy as a good sign, and he tried to work faster. By the time the other arm was bare, the Knight had added occasional soft moans to the mix, and his eyes were closed. Buried under a wolfskin, Addy found the twin buckles of a great belt, and hastily undid them. That let him pull open the tops of what appeared to be an actual shirt and coat, or at least their remains, exposing some of the Knight’s bulky chest, huge and scarred. Below that, over the belly, which seemed to be rather large, were yet more layers, and Addy got some of them, but untangling them quickly took him down to the legs instead, where he had to expose the Knight’s upper thighs, each the size of Addy’s torso, and his strange, ragged breechclout—no need to take that off, thank God—before he finally manage to detach another of those strange sewn-up cloth plates, revealing part of a large belly plate. Addy ran his hands along it, working his fingers underneath yet more layers, and after peeling away a few, was surprised to find rope. 

The rope ran crisscross across the top and bottom edges of the rough iron plate, with a few passes across the middle for good measure. Puzzled, Addy probed with his fingers to find the side of the plate, where he felt buckles, unfastened ones. That was odd. He kept working the fabric and leather and fur, adding more pieces to the ever-mounting pile of layers next to him, and was surprised when he managed to find more of the shirt and coat that he’d unearthed at the Knight’s chest. He undid their respective laces and buttons, pulled them open, and was gratified when large sections of the remaining wrappings came with them. He heaved them onto the pile, struggling with their weight, turned back to the Knight, and froze.

The Knight’s belly was indeed large, but it wasn’t the powerful gut of a strong man, it was too…  _ round.  _ Odder than that, the belly plate was right up against the skin, not padded by anything, which had to be hugely uncomfortable. Odder still, the plate was indeed held on with ropes, or possibly a single rope, wound around and around the Knight’s midsection many times, the plate’s buckles hanging uselessly at its sides. And oddest yet, where the rope looped around the bare flesh of the Knight’s sides, it dug in hard, in dark, painful-looking gouges into bulging, taut, reddened flesh that appeared to have no place there, next to the rippling muscles of the Knight’s chest, ribs, hips, back… The whole of the Knight’s body was muscled like an ox, hardly any fat on him. What was wrong with his belly?

The rope did appear to be one piece, on closer inspection, and on the plate, off to one side, it culminated in a great, messy knot. Addy went for it. He’d seen no recent injuries, or at least none that could explain the Knight’s apparent pain, and whatever was causing it was under that plate. He picked at the rope with his fingernails, and after some time, managed to discern the shape of the knot and untangle it. The plate sprung off powerfully the moment it was freed, hitting Addy painfully in the shins, and he doubled over, hissing, but he had to look up quickly, because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing at the edges of his vision. His jaw dropped.

The Knight was massively pregnant. That was the only possible explanation for the gigantically swollen belly that loomed between them, loosed from its binds. Addy had seen a woman pregnant with twins once, round and waddling and weighed down, and this mountainous belly had the same taut, heavy quality to it. It was huge, even in proportion to the Knight; an ordinary pregnancy, scaled up for the Knight’s body, would have been perhaps half the size of this one, maybe less. Addy thought in vague shock that he, a relatively average-sized man—well, maybe he was a  _ little  _ short and slender—could fit into that vast roundness with room to spare. There were great, red, chafed marks on the sides, where the rope had dug in, but the main mass of it was marked differently, with jagged purplish seams and faint veins, and it was all flushed and inflamed, especially around the navel, which protruded aggressively. The skin was covered in sweat, despite the cool air, and periodically it twitched a little, like a horse shaking off flies, only it seemed weak and faint, abortive, like the muscles had been stretched too thinly to do anything but twitch. It looked like it might burst at any moment.

The Knight seemed relieved—anyway, he slumped more against the tree, body relaxing, the muscles of his chest heaving in exhaustion, hands resting on the ground, and his face relaxed. When he groaned again, it was more of a sigh. Addy could only stare dumbly.

Then the vast belly lurched, somehow, and the Knight curled forward with an unmistakable grunt of pain. A great hand clapped to the underside with a strange sound, the familiar slap of flesh on flesh coupled with a deeper, almost hollow  _ thump.  _ When the Knight leaned back against the tree, his belly was noticeably lower, resting on his great thighs. It extended nearly out to his knees. As Addy looked, trying to process what was happening, it visibly pulsed. The Knight lifted it a little with that one hand, then let it drop heavily, shaking his head.

Addy put his hands on it. He didn’t even know when he’d gotten that close, but all of a sudden he was there, marveling at how small his long-fingered thief’s hands were on the vast expanse of straining skin. It really was straining; he could feel those little twitches now, as well as see them, the flutterings of exhausted muscles. And beneath that, he could feel a dimmer, deeper movement, something shifting inside. He ran his hand slowly over the dome of the belly’s highest peak in mute awe before he managed to croak, “What is it?” It couldn’t be a  _ human  _ child in there.

Instead of answering, the Knight groaned again, and his belly heaved under Addy’s fingers, seeming to tense or squeeze or—contract. Contractions. Addy stared at it, watching the great round bulk shudder. It was almost like a separate being, with its own goals, attached to the Knight purely by chance, and right now it was working up to emptying itself. 

The Knight spread his legs a little, lifting his knees off the dirt and to the side in a movement that levered his belly a little higher, exposing more of his tattered breechclout. Like most of the rest of the Knight’s clothing, it didn’t seem to be a real garment, just a long piece of fabric folded and wrapped between the legs and knotted around the hips, under the thick roll of muscle that protruded there. Much more startling than that was the fact that the crotch of it was soaked. Addy stared. Had the Knight  _ wet  _ himself? But he couldn’t smell any piss. Either way, he had no idea what was going to happen, but it seemed quite clear that the breechclout was going to have to come off. He fumbled at the knot on the side, got it loose, and pulled the breechclout away. A wave of smell hit him, but it certainly wasn’t piss.

The Knight had a cunt between his legs, and it was absolutely soaking. Even as Addy watched, more slick dripped out. But the wetness wasn’t the most interesting thing about it. Men with cunts tended to have large clits, Addy knew, and had he known the Knight had a cunt, he would have expected that. But the Knight’s clit was far beyond that, even considering the size of his body. It was the length of Addy’s  _ cock,  _ for God’s sake, at least, and easily twice as thick, not counting the thick labia that rippled down along its furled hood. It was furiously erect, straining to point upward, but some ligament stopped it, leaving it angled somewhat downward, like a half-hard cock. It was all flushed an angry purplish-red, and as Addy watched, entranced, it throbbed. 

The rest of the Knight’s cunt matched it, huge and swollen, though that exquisite clit overshadowed it all. Everything dripped with thick, glossy fluid, still being expelled in little pulses. The Knight groaned again, and every muscle in his great body seemed to flex in a powerful push, and a larger gush of fluid drooled out onto the ground. The looming belly lurched again, and the Knight shook and sighed.

Addy dropped to his knees between the vast thighs. He could hardly take his eyes off the Knight’s massive clit. The huge rounded tip of it, like the head of a cock, dwarfed his own. It was nearly as broad as his fist. There was an urge rising in him, a building desire to bend down and take it into his mouth, as much as he could fit, and he didn’t think about it before he simply did it. 

He managed to squeeze the tip into his mouth, somehow or other, and the Knight shuddered. He couldn’t really do much, it was too big, but he wiggled his tongue under it and squeezed his lips a little tighter, and was gratified with a loud groan. He doubled his efforts, a fierce eagerness pushing past his fear. The Knight wasn’t going to kill him for sucking his clit. He almost forgot about the gigantic pregnant belly pressed against the back of his head while he struggled to get more clit into his mouth. It wasn’t until it lurched again that he remembered, and pulled off with a wet  _ pop,  _ his lips sore and strained. 

As he wiped his mouth, the Knight flexed again, bearing down. The push lasted longer this time, and ended in a larger gush of slick. Addy slipped his fingers between the Knight’s inner lips, marveling at their heat and soft wetness, and found the entrance busily drooling out more slick. The Knight pushed again, and Addy nearly yanked his hand away when he felt the immense power behind it, like the Knight’s cunt could break his fingers if he left them in the wrong place. Yet more slick poured over his hand, but this time, there was something else, too. There was something moving inside, something huge and powerful. With great trepidation, Addy slowly, carefully let one of his fingers actually slip inside the Knight’s cunt.  _ Slip  _ was the right word—there was little resistance, and the massive quantities of slick that kept pouring out meant that everything was extensively lubricated. A few more waves of fluid pushed past his finger, and Addy wondered whether it wasn’t possible that the entire mass of belly above him was made up of it, a few barrels’ worth. Then something firm pressed suddenly against his finger, and he yanked his hand back in shock, nearly falling over backwards. He shook his head at himself and came forward again, gently probing inside. 

It was huge, whatever it was. Hot, too, under his finger, with a strange, leathery texture. There was just the slightest give when he pushed at it, and as the Knight groaned and strained through another immense push, it squeezed further down, forcing Addy’s finger out before it. He kept the tip of his finger pressed against it, tracking its progress, but it was hardly necessary—it soon crowned, at first barely visible, just a small patch of electric blue between folds, but quickly stretching the Knight’s entrance.

Addy spread the Knight’s lips apart with his thumbs, trying to see the thing’s progress. Even as he watched, it pushed further, visibly forcing the Knight’s entire cunt to bulge outward. Addy could feel the force of the thing’s mass beneath his hands. When the straining mound couldn’t push out any further, the thing finally started to stretch the Knight’s entrance properly, steadily broadening the narrow opening until it was nearly perfectly round, and then expanding it further, more and more bright blue showing itself until nearly three inches of it strained the Knight’s cunt to the breaking point. It looked almost flat, strangely, like a disk, or maybe a saucer. Addy had expected it to be round, somehow. 

The Knight let up the push, and the thing slipped back with a heavy, vibrating  _ thump  _ that Addy felt more than heard, the blue vanishing back behind folds. The Knight made a strange keening noise and shuddered at the impact, clapping one of his huge hands to the underside of his belly as if in pain. He could barely reach it around that bulk. Addy touched it for him instinctively, pressing his hands against the taut flesh. Beneath his hands, the gigantic clit throbbed again. He could still taste it, and his cock, half-hard, twitched in sympathy.

The Knight pushed again, groaning with the strain. The blue disk appeared again, expanding as the Knight’s cunt trembled around it until it reached nearly the size it had before. Then, impossibly, it came further, and further, and further, somehow forcing the Knight’s cunt almost half an inch wider. Addy touched it hesitantly. He didn’t want to accidentally push it back in, but he wanted to feel the alien texture beneath the pads of his fingers, and after a few seconds of stroking it, he suddenly whined and pulled back.

It  _ was  _ round. He had felt the curve of it under his fingers, and now that he looked more closely, he could even see it, the slight bow-curve to the thing’s surface. It was round, yes, but it was impossibly huge. With a curve like that, it had to be… God help him, the size of both his fists together, at least, and Addy’s hands only looked small next to the Knight’s. He sat back and looked up at the Knight for a moment before his eyes were dragged back down. The push ended, the thing slamming back again with that same bone-shaking  _ thump,  _ and he shook his head in wordless horror. “It’s too big,” he managed, eyes fixed on the heaving cunt. He tried to indicate the size with his hands, gesturing messily. “Too big. You’re not going to get it out.”

The Knight rubbed the base of his own belly with an absurd tenderness with one hand, and then with the other dug his fingers hard into the dirt, tearing deep furrows. He shook his head, mad eyes still closed, and bore down with his entire body in another push. His groan was louder this time, and Addy could see the immense power of that vast body running, as if channeled, towards the muscles of his huge-but-too-small pussy as they squeezed. The thing crested again. Its horrible bulk pouted the Knight’s cunt out into a mound again, and its blue skin appeared again, stretched the entrance round again, dilated it further again. But this time, not as much of it appeared, and when it dropped back inside, the Knight’s pained grunt was weaker.

Three more pushes followed, and with each one, less of the thing emerged, and the Knight looked more exhausted, until at last he was sagging against the tree, covered in sweat, chest heaving with great, ragged breaths, muscles trembling. Even his clit had flagged slightly, though it still stood well swollen. Then the Knight’s body contracted again, and he grimaced, baring surprisingly clean, even teeth, and Addy suddenly realized that the pushes were not voluntary, or at least not entirely.  _ Oh, God, it’s making him do it. He can’t stop it. _

Addy leaned in close to the cunt again as it bulged outward toward him. The blue mass took a long time to reveal itself, but when it did, he pressed his thumbs against the sides of the Knight’s entrance and pulled. To his surprise, it actually seemed to help; the thing pressed out further, nearly as much as it had during the first couple of attempts. Addy’s fingers slipped in the slick when he tried to adjust his grip, and the thing was quickly swallowed up again when the push ended. He tried the same thing again on the next push—they were getting weaker, and quickly—and was gratified to see more emerge. Perhaps there was a chance, after all. Maybe the blue thing was more pliable than it looked.

Four pushes later, Addy was quickly losing hope. It had helped, at first, manually stretching the Knight’s cunt, but that incredible strength was fading, and the blue thing wasn’t any nearer to coming out. It might have been further, really. In desperation, after yet another fruitless push ended and the Knight sprawled limp against the tree, head lolling, Addy shook his head and plunged three fingers into the Knight’s cunt. The Knight grunted, and a powerful clench seemed likely to break Addy’s fingers, but there was no sign of real resistance, so he kept going. He squeezed a fourth finger in, and then two fingers from his other hand. He could just feel the leathery skin of the thing, deep inside. If he could just get his fingers around it… 

The Knight suddenly seemed to cotton on, and another great push forced the thing rather painfully onto two of Addy’s fingers, trapping them between the strange, hot skin and the shockingly powerful muscles of the Knight’s cunt. Eyes watering, Addy tried to curl his fingers into the thing, and was gratified with a slight give. He forced another finger around it, grateful that he kept his fingernails short. The Knight pushed again, almost gently, and the thing edged further onto Addy’s fingers. They kept that up for a little while, a steady back-and-forth of squeezing the thing further forward while Addy struggled to fit more of his fingers under and around it. Addy became engrossed in the task, and when he finally held the thing between four fingers of his right hand and three of his left, and absolutely could not squeeze in any more, he was momentarily lost. Then he snapped back to himself and pulled.

It was exhausting, like he was hauling a safe, or a donkey that didn’t want to move. He planted his feet and threw his weight into the pull. The muscles of the Knight’s cunt fluttered a little around his fingers, and then the Knight groaned, and there was a great heave. Addy’s fingers slipped, and he fell on his ass painfully, and for a few moments was only able to process his own difficulty, but then the sound of keening finally reached him, far more desperate than any other noise the Knight had made, and he sat up. 

A great blue hemisphere, looking as improbably huge as a planet, was protruding from the Knight’s cunt. The lips were stretched paper-thin around it, and they twitched in desperation. The gigantic clit was so hard that it looked about to explode, twitching and pulsing frantically. The Knight’s chest shook, the great muscles there bouncing slightly with the ragged, moaning breaths and the sharp, pained gasps. It was  _ stuck,  _ Addy realized, perched halfway out and refusing to move further. He dropped to his hands and knees in front of it, but he didn’t dare touch it for fear that he would push it back in accidentally and start the whole damn thing over again. “Come on,” he breathed. “You’re so close.” The Knight squeezed so hard that his hips lifted off the ground, and he gave a terrible roar. Every muscle in the vast body bunched and squeezed, trembling, and the thing stayed resolutely motionless, until quite suddenly, it didn’t.

The thing popped free forcefully, and the Knight collapsed with a rumbling groan like he’d been stabbed, slumping against the tree and shaking with exhaustion. Addy stared at the thing in quiet awe and lifted it with both hands. It was gigantic, shockingly so, and immensely heavy. If he hadn’t just seen it come out of the Knight’s cunt, the idea of anyone being able to fit it into any orifice would have been laughable. It wasn’t quite perfectly round, he realized as he turned it back and forth in his hands, but sort of tapered on one end, like— 

“It’s an egg,” he blurted, shocked. The Knight paid him no heed, but Addy knew it was true. He ran his thumb over it slowly, absently, wondering what in the hell laid eggs that size, and what in the hell laid eggs that size in a person. How big would it have to be to have eggs like this, and hold the Knight down long enough to lay them? 

The Knight gave another low groan, and his gaping cunt began to pout out again, something massive forcing it outward. Addy heard himself whimper. Of  _ course  _ there was another egg, more of them, who knew how many of even these huge eggs it would take to fill that mountainous belly? A dozen? Two dozen, four? He leaned in again, almost without meaning to, like he was being pulled, and slipped his fingers in, feeling for the egg.

The second one came out more easily than the first. Fewer pushes were needed, and it only got stuck at its widest part for a few seconds before the Knight’s hips strained hard enough to force it out. It was about the same size, though when Addy rolled it off to the side to join the first, he saw that there was a slight variation in color and shape, which he supposed was to be expected. The third egg was lightly speckled, like freckles, and hardly got stuck at all. The Knight’s great clit throbbed powerfully when it slipped out. Addy had picked it up and was turning to place it with the others when the Knight groaned in a rather different way. 

Addy turned just in time to see the Knight heave himself forward onto his knees, clearly with great effort. He swayed there, clearly badly unsteady, and taller kneeling than anyone Addy knew standing. The massive thighs looked even larger like this. His vast belly protruded almost comically in front of him. Addy slipped a hand under it for whatever small support he could offer, almost without meaning to, and felt the stretched, straining muscles tremble in exhaustion, as well as the vague shift of what had to be more eggs sliding into position. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice was a strange mix of sympathetic and terrified and something else to his own ears. “Probably easier like this than sitting down.”

The Knight gave no sign that he had heard. He seemed to be trying to recover from the movement, his eyes half-closed and unfocused, mouth open, face sagging with exhaustion. Then he lurched forward, and huge hands closed around Addy’s waist and yanked.

Addy yelped as he was picked up and flipped over, as easily as he would’ve done to a cat or rabbit. He scrabbled himself up to his hands and knees, movements fast and sloppy with fear, and the Knight didn’t seem to mind that, but the hands, large enough to meet around his waist, simply didn’t allow him to escape. He fought it, hard at first and then halfheartedly, but it was like fighting a steel cage. There was no give, none at all. After a long pause while the Knight panted like a racehorse, trembling so that Addy could feel it even through the immovable hands, one hand let go. Huge fingers grabbed at his trousers and yanked.

He made a noise that he wasn’t proud of, and he tried to lunge away, but he was held just as securely and permanently by one hand as he had been by two. The Knight kept pulling, and a seam tore somewhere. Then his trousers were being ripped down his legs, hard and fast enough to take off his boots with them, and his bare toes were digging into cold earth, his ass out in the cool air, and he was panting in growing terror.

There was another groan behind him, low and tired, and then he felt warmth and hair against the back of his thighs, and, almost at the same moment, immense heat and weight on his back, reaching nearly to his neck and growing heavier by the moment, and a second later, something huge and wet and violently hot between his cheeks, and sopping wetness rubbing against his taint and balls. He cried out and tried instinctively to shrink away, drawing into himself, but there was nowhere to go. He was well and truly caught.

The Knight rubbed his huge clit up and down Addy’s hole, and smeared it all around and onto his cheeks and against his taint and everywhere, groaning and shuddering, and he started pressing his cunt against Addy, too, anywhere he could. It went on for a while, more and more slick being spread over Addy’s ass and groin, hot at first but quickly growing cold, only to be replaced by fresh, hot fluid, and all the while the Knight moaned and lowed like a mating beast. 

Addy felt the next egg when it came. It was padded at first by the Knight’s copious folds, but it came further and further, and the layer of padding grew thinner and thinner, and then the hot, leathery egg touched his left ass cheek. The Knight groaned and strained, and the patch of heat grew and grew and grew. Then the heat shifted, slipping into his crack. One huge hand spread his cheeks, and the heat moved up and down, probing. Addy shrieked then, in sudden understanding and horror. “It  _ won’t fit!”  _ he yelled. “It won’t work, stop it!” He started fighting again, trying to throw himself free of the great hands, but as before, he might as well not have bothered.

The Knight, apparently comfortable with his position, moved his hand back to Addy’s waist and pulled back firmly, making sure Addy was seated as solidly against him as possible. The great leaking cunt was kissing all around Addy’s hole, up onto his cheeks and down his taint, and the gigantic clit strained against his tailbone, feeling much like a cock, lying there on his back, and the strange heat of the egg pressed hard against him, so large that it surrounded his hole. The Knight gave that groan that Addy had learned meant a contraction, and Addy cried out.

The circle of heat on his ass grew and grew. The Knight rocked slightly, almost as if he were fucking, and the egg rocked with him, pressing and retreating and pressing harder. But there seemed to be no question of the egg actually getting into Addy’s ass; it pushed on his hole, hard, but it was far too large and round to start opening him up, and when the Knight groaned and the egg popped out, it simply thudded against him before dropping to the ground, and Addy nearly cried in relief.  _ Okay. Okay.  _ He could work with that. If the Knight wanted to pretend like he was laying his eggs into someone, that was okay. Addy could play along.

The belly resting on his back twitched and shifted, somewhere deep inside, and the Knight swayed in response, but seemed to recover quickly. His sopping cunt pulled back, away from Addy’s ass, and Addy shivered a little at the feeling of the slick going cold on his privates. He could still feel the heat coming off of the Knight’s cunt, dwarfing even the heat of the great belly, and part of him wanted it back. No reason not to, really, no reason not to enjoy the presence of such an impressive cunt while it was available… 

The Knight’s great thumbs pulled his cheeks apart again, and suddenly, so suddenly that Addy yelped, there was a gigantic finger in his ass. He twisted and pulled anew, trying to get away despite knowing full well that it was impossible. He hadn’t really done much with his ass, and the Knight’s finger was easily the size of a respectable cock.  _ Too much, too much.  _ The pad of another one pressed up next to the second one, and he yanked, trying to lunge away against the iron hand holding him in place. “Stop it!  _ Stop  _ it!” But the second finger squeezed in, slowly, while Addy cried out and struggled and groaned at the sensation of being far, far fuller, stretched stinging far, far wider, than he’d ever been, and quite quickly, there were two of the huge, terrible fingers in him. Then came the third, and he wailed. 

Four fingers, surely, was plenty, Addy thought a little later, woozily, madly, desperately. Whatever enjoyment the Knight got out of fucking him open with his fingers, four was plenty. Everything was sore and stretched and horrible, and he was quite sure that he had hit his limit. Four of the Knight’s fingers probably wasn’t quite four cocks—he hoped it wasn’t, he really hoped it wasn’t, because if it was, what the hell did his ass  _ look  _ like now—but it was fucking plenty. He was only making low groaning noises, now, his screams and yelps were done with. The Knight started to pump those four huge fingers back and forth, in and out, and Addy let his groans fall into that rhythm. It felt… it did  _ not  _ feel good, absolutely not. Maybe there was a certain something there, something that reminded him of being fucked, and maybe he needed to go talk to Stere back in the city and see if they couldn’t have another lay sometime, but the Knight’s fingers were not a cock, and they were far, far too big, and they did not feel good.

The fingers bumped something inside him that made his belly clench, and he moaned. Then they paused, and then another finger pressed up with them, and Addy keened. Why? Why did the Knight want him open so badly? How many fingers did you need to put in a person? The Knight could just use his damn clit, damn it, that had to feel good. Why all the fingers?

It wasn’t a finger, he discovered a moment later. It was a thumb, and he yelled as it forced its way in, and then a stone wall that could only have been the Knight’s scarred, knotted knuckles stopped everything in its tracks, and then, horrifyingly, the Knight started to push, and after what felt like an hour of Addy shrieking and the Knight making animal groans and pushing so hard he had to hold Addy in place with his other hand, the knuckles went in, and in short order, the rest of the vast hand followed, sucked into the gap made by the knuckles, until Addy’s hole clenched around what had to be the Knight’s fucking wrist.

Addy sobbed into the muddy ground. His hands clawed uselessly at the dirt. There was a  _ hand  _ in his  _ ass.  _ It didn’t even feel like a hand, he didn’t know what it felt like, his body was well beyond understanding what was happening to it, but  _ he  _ knew that there was a hand in his ass, the hand of a giant, and that knowledge was agonizing. He thought of the size of the Knight’s hands, big enough to encircle his waist, and wailed louder. There was… that was in his  _ ass.  _ It was horrifying. He was broken, he had to be. How was he alive? How could his body possibly be malleable enough to accept this, how was he alive?

The hand moved inside of him, and Addy writhed like he’d had an electric shock. The sensation was insane, like an earthquake, and it kept going. The fingers spread open, pressing at his insides, pushing and kneading as the fist opened and closed and probed, and then it started to go deeper, the Knight’s huge forearm forcing his hole wider again. Addy howled and drooled and tried to breathe, but his body was being pushed well past anything he’d ever known about his limits, and it was all he could do to lie there and shake and moan and not die.

The Knight pulled his hand out eventually. Not all the way, but so only the fingers were in, and Addy went limp with relief. Back to the fingers. The fingers would have— _ had  _ horrified him only minutes ago, but now they were a relief, a comfort, only fingers after all, not a  _ hand.  _ The Knight could do whatever he wanted with fingers, fine, that was fine.

More fingers pressed against his ass, definitely actually fingers this time, not the now-familiar thumb. God. God, why? Why was this happening to him? As they slipped in, Addy could do nothing but lie there, his back half hoisted off the ground by the fingers in his ass, all of him covered in mud. The fingers pulled away from each other, like they were trying to open him up and look inside, and there was simply nothing he could do. He hung there, useless, moaning.

The Knight’s soaked, drooling cunt pressed up against his ass again, and he finally understood. “No!” he yelled.  _ “No!”  _ He tried to summon up whatever strength remained in his arms, and there was enough there for him to flail and twist, but it did absolutely nothing to stop the nightmare. That second, brighter heat of the leathery egg touched him—it was the  _ inside  _ of his ass it was touching this time, that was how wide he’d been pulled open—and it started to push in.

The Knight had to remove his fingers eventually. There wasn’t any room for them, not with the egg there, and the Knight seemed to have a hell of a time trying to push the egg out anyway, so it was slow going. That vast rounded heat forced its way inside, slowly, slowly, in little pulses and nudges. Even as horrifyingly stretched and exhausted as it was, Addy’s ass didn’t want to accept it. There was a horrible sensation of stretching and straining, especially right around the entrance. But the Knight had planted himself firmly in place, cunt sealed up against Addy’s hole and refusing to move, and all that terrifying, inhuman strength was channeled into pushing the egg out.

It got stuck, briefly, like they did with the Knight’s cunt. The Knight took the opportunity to rest for a moment. Addy could feel the body against him heaving with the force of his gasps, the muscles trembling with exhaustion. At least it was an ordeal for him, too, but that didn’t mean much to Addy right then—he was busy moaning at the sensation of his ass being held open at the most mind-bendingly, improbably widest it had yet been by a stuck egg. 

Then the Knight gave one great push, and slowly, inexorably, the egg squeezed in, a hair at a time, until, suddenly, violently, it popped in.

Addy nearly passed out. It did something to his spine, that impact, and he went totally limp. He felt it through his entire body, the vibrations echoing throughout him like the sound of the city’s great horn. There was mud in his mouth, and he was making a low keening sound that he hadn’t known he could make. The egg was inside him, somehow, he could feel it like a hot lead ball in the very bottom of his being. Whatever organs were down there were straining and suffering, stretched and squeezed and pushed around by the invader. He slowly, painfully lifted a hand and put it to his belly, just above his cock, in the region of his bladder, and felt an unmistakable hard bulge. As he stretched his fingers over it, trying vainly to sound out where it ended, it shifted, his tortured guts sucking it further up inside of him, and he had to let his arm go boneless again, eyes rolling back in his head.

The Knight seemed to have a similar thought, and brought one of those vast hands—was it the one that had been in his ass? he wasn’t sure—up underneath Addy’s belly with surprising gentleness. He cupped the bulge as it slowly inched toward some kind of equilibrium, where Addy’s body didn’t want to push it in either direction, and a thumb rubbed up over Addy’s ribs while the fingers pressed and traced. For a while, that was all there was, the Knight’s hoarse panting slowly easing, the huge man settled back on his thighs again, long lines of slick dripping down Addy’s ass. Addy did his best to breathe. It was all he could manage with that hot weight in his belly.

Then the Knight heaved himself back up. His mountainous belly dropped onto Addy’s back again as he leaned forward, and he hoisted Addy’s ass off the ground. He dragged his giant, throbbing clit back and forth between Addy’s cheeks a few times before he got his cunt into place, and the whole bloody thing started again.

The second egg was easier, and Addy could have cried from the vastness of that relief. That first one seemed to have plowed him thoroughly open. It didn’t appreciate being jostled as the second egg was squeezed in, and Addy’s whole body spasmed when the second egg inevitably thudded into the first, somewhere deep inside, but it had definitely gotten easier. He hoped that there wasn’t a third egg, but he contented himself with the assurance that if there was, it would no doubt be easier, too.

There was a third egg. It made Addy feel ill, and it didn’t help that the Knight tried to dig his fingers into the nonexistent gap between the eggs, separating them through the stretched tissue of Addy’s belly. The weight there was massive, now, like he was carrying cannonballs. The bulge he could feel in his belly with a weak, shaking hand didn’t seem nearly large enough for what he was feeling. But that concern, at least, quickly faded; the first three eggs seemed to have filled up much of whatever compressible space there was in Addy’s belly, and the fourth and fifth certainly felt like they added their entire bulk to the growing mound of that bulge.

At the sixth egg, things started to get bad again. The Knight seemed to be regaining his strength, and though he still gasped and shook with the strain, he no longer needed to half-collapse between eggs. On the contrary, he used the breaks between eggs to thrust up against Addy’s ass and back. Addy couldn’t be bothered to care about the Knight’s vast clit fucking up against him and his cunt slopping slick all over his thighs, not with the eggs, but the Knight’s belly was still crushingly heavy on his back and shoulders, and that wore him out, even though he knew the Knight had to be supporting the vast majority of the weight. As the sixth egg forced itself past his entrance, he gave a muffled moan and waited for it to squeeze further inside to join its brethren.

It didn’t. It sat there, the narrower end still sticking out of his ass a little, and it did not go any further. Addy froze.

The Knight noticed quickly. One hand cupped his belly again, probing firmly, and then moved further downward, tracing the egg-bulges down his guts until the huge fingers swept past his cock—still half-hard, somehow. The other hand probed his taint, and when a thumb pressed down there, Addy whined and the egg shifted, pushing itself nearly out of his ass again.

_ I’m full,  _ Addy realized.  _ He’s filled me up.  _ His guts were full of eggs. Huge, hot, leathery, slimy eggs, eggs that jostled each other inside of him, stretched his insides to their limit, pushed his belly out into a bulge like a woman with child, eggs that had been laid into his ass from the biggest, wettest, most luscious cunt he’d ever seen… It was over. He’d been fucked full.

The Knight prodded at the half-in egg. Addy couldn’t bring himself to mind. Presumably the Knight was still full of eggs, but he’d put everything into Addy that would fit. He’d have to lay the others onto the ground, like he had the first ones. Some distant part of Addy was rather put out that he absolutely did not have the energy to keep his eyes open and watch that happen, but even his cock was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep, now.

There was a sudden vast pressure at his ass, and Addy gave a muffled cry. He would have liked to writhe and twist and shriek, but he couldn’t. All he could do was lie there and whine as the Knight pushed,  _ hard,  _ and the egg popped in, all the way. All the other eggs shifted and rolled. His guts protested furiously, but they didn’t have the strength to resist. The egg carved its own space, and the Knight shuddered, withdrew his shaking fingers, and shoved his cunt up against Addy’s ass again.

The seventh, eighth, and ninth eggs all had to be forced in the same way, manhandled into position once they’d been squeezed part of the way in, knocking all the others around and making Addy moan with the terrible, awful, magnificent stretch and shifting weight. The tenth was, if possible, worse. The Knight pushed so hard on that one that his whole huge hand followed after it, and that turned into him reaching further into Addy’s ass, pushing and pushing and pushing, forcing the eggs along until Addy was sure they had to come out of his mouth. Then the hand came back out, feeling like it was pulling Addy’s abused insides along with it, and then there were more godforsaken eggs, eager, now, to fill up whatever space the Knight had somehow made. They filled it far too quickly, and the thirteenth egg was the first that Addy could really feel create its own space. It stretched him, all by itself. The Knight’s muscular cunt stopped it from exiting, so it went the only place it could: deeper. His belly swelled reluctantly, torturously, to make room.

Addy thought the Knight dropped him on the fifteenth egg, letting him flop back on the ground at last. He rejoiced; that had to mean this was almost over. But then the Knight’s hands shifted on his hips, adjusting their grip, and his befuddled brain puzzled over the problem. There was mud against his skin, certainly, on his belly and his forearms and his knees and shins… 

He whimpered when he understood. His belly had grown so vast that it touched the ground. He was on his elbows and knees, ass in the air, and  _ his belly was touching the ground.  _ The horror sat in his throat—there was no space for it in his belly.

The pressure only grew. Every egg filled him more, adding terrible hot weight that pulled on his spine. Addy was distantly aware that the weight of the Knight’s belly on his back was not so great as it had been, but that was small comfort when his own belly was stretching with creaks like an overfilled waterskin. It pushed deeper into the mud, and then, when he had long lost count of the eggs, he became aware that his knees were no longer on the ground. They were rising; slowly, incrementally, a little with each egg, but they were rising. He didn’t have the strength to turn his head and look, but they had to be inches off the ground. He was being lifted off the ground by his own bloody belly. He was going to throw up.

He did not throw up. But he did start crying. Not actively sobbing, he didn’t have the breath or energy for that, but he felt hot tears sliding down his face into the mud. He could feel the skin and muscle of his belly, stretched agonizingly thin, twitching like the Knight’s had, in faint, short little shivers, entirely without his input. Another egg squeezed from the Knight’s cunt and into his ass, and the Knight slipped a hand down to cup Addy’s cock and balls against his taut, impossible belly. The huge, rough palm ground down a little, and Addy, barely comprehending, felt his cock begin climbing back to full hardness.

The pleasure, what little of it could be gotten from the Knight’s inelegant, distracted hand, combined oddly with everything else. If Addy had been capable of thought at the time, he would have assumed that the pleasure would have to compete with the cacophony of overwhelming sensations that were wracking his body. Every conception he’d had of his body’s limits had been smashed to pieces, and his brain was thoroughly incapable of keeping up. Pleasure ought to have been impossible. But it wasn’t. It didn’t try to push anything aside; it rode on top. His ass had accepted things into it that he would have deemed fatal, and his belly was a grotesque marvel, and his body as he knew it was presumably ruined, and his cock was enjoying being rubbed. He wasn’t less aware of everything else that was happening to him, not really, but it all seemed almost survivable, and God, he could come. He exhaled in breathy little sighs, and his balls prepared themselves, pulling up more tightly.

The Knight stopped, then, of course. Something changed; there was desperation in his movements now. The muscles of his thighs jumped and twitched against Addy. His clit twitched constantly, clearly furiously aroused. His hands tried to grip Addy’s waist, but that had been eclipsed by hard, round belly, and they had to slip down to his hips instead, where they clutched and squeezed with bruising strength. Addy became aware of the noises he was making, heaving, rumbling groans. The pushes drifted away from being pushes, and started to become thrusts instead, and it all seemed to happen gradually, so that Addy was vaguely surprised to find that the Knight was now humping him violently with terrible strength, flesh slapping against flesh, slick slopping everywhere, crowning egg squeezing in and out of Addy’s hole.

The Knight shoved forward hard enough to knock over a bull and let out a howling, guttural roar. The last egg popped in, the Knight’s clit jumped, a tide of slick poured out against Addy’s ass, and his cock, untouched, teetered on the edge for a moment before spurting, adding its own contribution to the waterfall down his belly.

He floated for a while. He felt… good, almost. Exhausted, but the concerns of his body seemed to have receded briefly, leaving him to ride down gently on the fading ripples of his pleasure. Everything seemed to be drifting, and he felt that he could drift, too. Some sleep would be nice… 

The Knight heaved himself to his feet. The vibrations of his great feet thudding in the mud as he swayed and struggled to stay upright traveled through Addy’s belly, but even that couldn’t shake him loose from the sleepy high he was riding. Then the Knight grabbed his hips and flipped him over, and that shook him loose so hard that he passed out.

  
  
  
  


He couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds, but it made all the difference in the world. The pleasure had vanished. He was on his back, now, agonizingly aware of every hurt. His belly towered over him. It was smeared with mud, but he could still see that it was hatched with the same ragged stripes that the Knight’s had borne. His navel was the darkest, protruding out like a little round fruit and swollen a violent purplish-red, but all of his belly was flushed. It wasn’t as neatly, perfectly round as a true pregnancy, but was slightly deformed with faint lumps, and it all looked like it might burst.

The Knight appeared in his field of vision. He looked very different without the belly; his gut was a little soft and slack-looking, but if the rest of his huge, muscular body was any indication, it would firm up once it had time to recover. His craggy face twisted up in a critical frown as he studied Addy’s body, and then he huffed and turned away. He started to get dressed, picking up pieces of fabric and leather and metal and fur from the pile and strapping them on in no particular order, and Addy watched in quiet, distant, barely-conscious envy as the Knight moved—clearly exhausted, but still standing and bending and moving easily, unimpaired. Addy had been able to move like that, once. It felt like a lifetime ago. Now the idea of standing was laughable. He would never get his belly off the ground. He wanted to sleep… 

  
  
  
  


The Knight was dressed, fully armed and armored, when Addy next faded into awareness. He gazed up at the Knight’s helm, uncomprehending, uncaring. Not even the giant sword strapped across the broad back awoke anything in him. He was too tired, too pregnant, for anything to matter. Maybe in a day or two he would be able to gather his faculties enough to manage one coherent thought, but right now… 

The Knight put a gauntleted hand on Addy’s vast belly, and Addy moaned. If he’d been able to think, he might have been shocked and embarrassed at the lewdness of the sound, well worthy of any whore, but he was only aware of the impact, of the shuddering, jostling vibrations that even this fairly gentle touch sent cascading through him. His belly trembled with the strain, and he closed his eyes and made more breathy little moans. Thus, he was taken completely by surprise when the Knight crouched down, hooked his huge arms under Addy’s back and thighs, and lifted.

There was an earthquake in his belly, and he howled. Everything in him screamed in protest: his sore ass, his sore limbs, his tired cock, his heaving, shaking, swollen catastrophe of a belly. He sobbed incoherently, but there was nothing to be done, no strength in him to do anything but hang there in the Knight’s arms and cry. Then the Knight took a step, and it all happened again, but before he could get through it, there was another step, and another, and another, and they couldn’t have gone more than a few yards in the Knight’s giant, purposeful stride before he slipped away again.

  
  
  
  


He was in a cave. It was small and dark, and he heard running water somewhere close, feet away, but he was resting somewhere dry, with the warmth of a little fire hugging at him. He was naked. There was fur under him, a thick, long-furred pelt, and rough fabric was draped over one leg. The beginnings of a few thoughts were stirring in the back of his head. He still felt slow and tired and pitiful, but the fog was fading.

A log shifted in the fire, and Addy was suddenly, startlingly aware of the Knight sitting across the fire from him, fully nude, using a long, charred stick to adjust the logs. He watched Addy unblinkingly. The stick moved idly, but the mad eyes, deep in their shadowed sockets, were motionless.

The Knight stood suddenly in one smooth, powerful motion, elegant despite his bulk. He stood still for a time, watching. The firelight flickered over his tree-trunk legs, his corded arms, his huge chest, but it seemed to shy away from his face. Addy’s still-slow mind paused briefly, bemused, at the Knight’s groin, where a cock seemed to rest with no balls, before he realized that it was the Knight’s clit, soft. Tucked mostly under the hood, with only the tip protruding, it looked remarkably like a cock. Something quivered in his own groin, despite his exhaustion.

The Knight moved slowly, carefully, like Addy was an animal that might flee or attack. He came around the fire one cautious, measured stride at a time, one foot in front of the other, and Addy kept an eye on him. He was too tired to be nervous, but he at least managed to be suspicious.

Then the Knight was standing next to him. He reached out slowly, and after a long wait, his huge hand finally touched Addy’s belly. It was… different. The touches back at the shrine had been lustful, or desperate, or appraising, but this one was… almost reverent? Protective? The hand ran over the straining skin, soothing, somehow. But it was so slow, and the Knight’s eyes stayed fixed on Addy’s, even as Addy let them drift half-closed. The hand rubbed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth… Every movement, somehow, was going straight to his cock. When the Knight rubbed and squeezed at his navel, teasing, almost delicate, he felt himself twitch. He wanted… he  _ wanted  _ the Knight to keep touching him. His belly wanted the touch full as much as his cock did, giving him the same sort of pleasure.

There was a stirring at the Knight’s groin, and Addy saw the tip of his huge clit push further out from underneath the hood, thickening. His pulse quickened. The Knight was… 

His own stiffening cock began to press against the underside of his belly. The friction made him harder, but he seemed to feel it in his belly as much as he did in his cock. He stared up at the Knight. He shouldn’t—they really shouldn’t—it would be mad to  _ want  _ this, surely—but he could almost taste the Knight’s clit in his mouth, and feel his dripping cunt, his powerful body, his terrible strength and violent lust. 

The Knight smiled and knelt next to him, right by his head. It was a frightening smile, wild and proud and full of something else, something more base, and it made something tingle along Addy’s spine. He knew, suddenly, with perfect confidence, that he was going to be taken care of. Whatever the hell happened with the eggs, the Knight was going to protect him, see to him, give him what he needed. And right now, the Knight was giving him a look that said he knew very well what Addy needed. 

The Knight pushed his clit forward, both an offering and an order, and Addy’s moan was quickly muffled.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year! Have some ovi!


End file.
